


Party of two

by fromthedeskoftheraven



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Fluff, Birthday Presents, Birthday Sex, F/M, Outdoor Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 02:24:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8232815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthedeskoftheraven/pseuds/fromthedeskoftheraven
Summary: Thranduil plans a special surprise to celebrate his Queen's birthday.





	

Thranduil leaned against the stable’s wall in a languid pose, absentmindedly feeding a bit of straw to a doe elk, and though his face came alight at your arrival, his lips curved in a teasing smirk.

“You’re late.”

“I was delayed.”

“By?”

“Deciding which gown would be most likely to take my husband’s breath away,” you said, giving a little twirl as you glanced coyly at him over your shoulder.

His gaze was admiring, even as his smirk deepened. “You chose well.”

“Now that I am at your disposal, are you going to tell me why you summoned me to the stables, of all places?”

“In due time,” he promised cryptically, walking to the stall that housed his magnificent stag. 

The elk gave a little snort of greeting, and Thranduil cupped its muzzle in his hands, murmuring softly to it as he led it out of the stable while you followed. Once outside, Thranduil turned to you, resting his hands on your waist to pull you close for a kiss before lifting you effortlessly to sit sideways across the elk’s back. He climbed up behind you, throwing his leg astride his mount and encircling you in his arms as he reached around you to take the reins, giving them a little flick to start the elk on its way.

The warm sunlight of a late-summer afternoon brightened the leaves of the Greenwood, creating a ceiling of vivid green under which you rode, the elk’s swaying gait lulling you into peaceful relaxation as he wandered over the turf dotted with wildflowers. You lay your head with a sigh on Thranduil’s shoulder, and he took the reins in one hand to wind his arm around your waist, holding you close while his lips grazed your temple.

You lifted your head again, roused from your dreamy state by curiosity, as the elk ambled into a small clearing in which a variety of pillows and poufs and silken coverlets had been arranged into a comfortable nest in the center of a ring of lanterns whose glow warmed the shade among the trees. Nearby stood a table bedecked with fresh flowers, with a light meal laid upon it, and crystal decanters of wine glittered in the light of a burning candle that scented the air with honey.

Thranduil slowed the elk to a halt, and you looked questioningly at him. 

“Did you do all this for me?”

He smiled as he slipped from the elk’s back, reaching to hand you down as well. “I and your most discreet maids, yes,” he admitted. “Is it an appropriate celebration of my love’s begetting day?”

“And I thought you’d forgotten,” you said apologetically.

“Forget the day that would bring me my greatest joy? Never.”

He tied the elk to a tree, where it greedily fell to pulling up tender shoots of green grass, and swept you, laughing, into his arms to carry you to a place of honor among the cushions that awaited you. 

Reclining on the pillows, you watched as he poured wine and arranged a small feast on a gleaming, silver plate, coming to offer it to you with a flourish.

“ _Meleth_ , you’ve outdone yourself,” you sighed, sipping your wine, and he smiled as he stretched out beside you, propping himself on a cushion to choose a plump berry from his own plate. 

“My Queen deserves only the finest,” he said, trailing the berry lightly over your lips. His smile turned sly when you impishly flicked your tongue over his fingertips in receiving it, and after a last, smoldering glance, he turned his attention to his meal.

The first stars winked in the sky when Thranduil collected your plates and returned again from the table, this time carrying a wrapped parcel, which you sat up eagerly to receive. 

He sank into the cushions and watched while you carefully pulled free the ribbon that bound the package’s wrappings, smiling at the little gasp that escaped you when you opened the leather-bound book, leafing through its gilt-edged pages to find poems written in elegant script and illustrated with painstakingly detailed pictures.

“Oh, Thranduil, it’s wonderful.”

“You are pleased?”

You reached to cradle his cheek gratefully in your palm. “I shall treasure it always. Thank you, _meleth nin_.”

He raised himself on his elbow to meet your kiss, his lips warm and soft and curving in a smile even as they caressed yours. “I must confess to another gift,” he murmured, “something that runs more to my taste.”

“You are extravagant, my King,” you pretended to scold, and he laughed.

“In my love for you, always.”

From an inner pocket of his robe, he drew out a small box of finely carved wood and held it on his open palm. With a wondering look, you lifted its lid to reveal a large moonstone of striking iridescence, strung on a delicate silver chain and surrounded by a glittering halo of sparkling, white gems.

“Oh, _meleth_ ,” you whispered, tracing its cool facets with your fingertip. 

Thranduil sat up to take the jewel from its box and swept your hair aside as he carefully clasped it around your neck, settling the moonstone at the center of your gown’s low neckline with an admiring eye.

“It is the most beautiful necklace,” you said, touching it reverently.

“I would say the most beautiful neck,” he smiled, and you rewarded him with another kiss.

“How shall I ever be persuaded to take it off?”

“You need not.” Thranduil’s slender finger followed the chain downward across your chest to where the pendant hung, trailing lightly over your skin. “In truth, I should very much like to see you wear it in our bed,” he purred, the shift in his tone making the air between you nearly crackle with electricity, and you thrilled inwardly with a sharp, fluttering pang of desire.

“Scandalous, my lord,” you teased, though he could not miss the challenge in your eyes as you added, “and I have never known you to require a bed before.”

He arched a brow appreciatively, toying with the ends of the ribbon that laced your bodice, stirring a quickening of your pulse with his silky, murmured response. 

“My Queen, are you suggesting that I have you right here, with the stars as witness?”

You smiled, nearly breathless with anticipation. “I am commanding it.”

Arousal sparked in his darkened eyes, and the ribbon between his fingers slipped from its loops, letting your gown fall open and exposing you to his hungry gaze. A shiver ran through you as his fingertips traced the soft curves beneath, leaving gooseflesh in their wake.

Your own hands pushed his rich robe from his shoulders, and he paused in his caresses to shrug it off completely, impatiently pulling his tunic over his head as well. Greedily, you mapped the firm breadth of his chest, feeling taut muscles flexing under his skin while his lips and hands wandered over your body, teasing and tasting, winding your nerves ever tighter with growing need until you fairly pleaded with him to take you, drawing the hot breath of a wicked chuckle against your neck.

Thranduil liberated you from your disheveled dress before standing to shed his trousers, and as you stared avidly at his bare form, flawless as if he’d been carved from marble, he stopped with a sigh, casting his eyes over you where you lay, as tender as a blooming rose in your yearning for him.

“You are exquisite, _meleth_ ,” he marveled, his voice thrilling with love. “A star fallen from the sky.”

“I am yours, my King,” you vowed, and gasped gratefully at the warmth of his skin on your own as he returned to you, your body rising instinctively to welcome him.

You had lost count of how many times you’d shattered in his arms, cried out his name to the heavens, and his sighing breaths stirred your hair as he clung to you in the last tremors of his pleasure, murmuring words of love and praise. While you peppered his face with soothing kisses, he rolled to his side to lay you gently on the coverlets and reached for his robe, draping it over your bodies against the evening’s chill, holding you close against his chest beneath the heavy, silky fabric with its faint scent of sandalwood.

With a last, contented sigh, Thranduil smoothed your hair away from your face, a mischievous smile stealing over his face that was quickly mirrored on your own. 

“Have you enjoyed your begetting day celebration, my Queen?” 

“Do you have to ask?”

His chuckle was low, smoky. “I did suspect it.”

“Mmm,” you sighed, stretching luxuriously against his warm, bare body. “I declare that this should be a new tradition.”

Thranduil curled his arms around you more snugly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I shall tell my jeweler to begin work on a new piece for next year,” he said teasingly.

“Oh, _meleth nín_ ,” you smiled, tipping your chin up to capture his lips in a slow, lazy kiss, “ _you_ are the best gift of all.”


End file.
